


So Long As The Music Plays

by Vesania94



Series: I See The Sky: Moments With Felicia Aeducan [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, F/M, Fantastic Racism, Fluff and Angst, Post-Blight, Slow Dancing, Stubborn Dwarves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 09:53:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7752970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vesania94/pseuds/Vesania94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fickleness of Ferelden nobles becomes too much for Felicia at a diplomatic ball, as she buckles under the weight of three powers who have all invested their faith in her. Weishaupt calls, angst ensues, and Alistair is there to help her pick up the pieces and find the way forward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Long As The Music Plays

Alistair sat on the throne –his throne, if he was being specific, watching the party –no, wait: “diplomatic ball”- swirl around in front of him. Maker, but he was bored.

“Are the festivities not to your liking, your Majesty?” a smooth, feminine voice murmured at his elbow. He chuckled slightly; she always had a certain way of creeping up on him.

“Ambassador Madaena, how kind of you to grace us with your presence,” he laughed, playing the game they had mastered in the months since both of their appointments. The proud woman who stood next to him smiled, lips pulling at scars that still had not completely healed; their deep marks across her face still angry and red. “The party is far fairer, now that you are here.”

“Your Grace is too kind. Truly there can be no comparison of a marred rose to the blooms that now fill your halls with their splendor,” she said simply, blushing slightly.

He took the opportunity of his own silence to look her over. Her pale gold hair had been braided into a tight crown at her head, the ends spilling over her shoulders in long waves that still reached the middle of her back. The dress she had been encouraged to wear was a brilliant sapphire, matching her eyes that had been lined with a smudge of black, bringing out their depth. The Wardens insignia had been carefully attached to her shoulder, the proud griffon wings stretching up over her arm; at her throat, the tiny gold shimmer of her House Madaena pin, the strange geometric etching catching the light.

“I find no bloom fairer than the one who lights up my life with her smile,” Alistair chuckled slightly, turning to acknowledge one of the pairs of nobles from the Free Marches –the Trevelyans, if he remembered correctly. Felicia had turned away from him and was speaking quietly with one of the Merchant’s Guild representatives from Kirkwall, curtseying slightly as he left her. She turned back to smile at him again, and he caught her hand, his thumb running over her knuckles. “ And no flower is more lovely than our very own Rose of Orzammar, a beauty that will never fade no matter the passage of time.”

“Ali, stop you’re making me blush,” Felicia hissed, her cheeks indeed turning pink at his words.

“Oh, so I’ve gotten better at this whole ‘complimenting’ thing? I’ll keep note of that one then,” Alistair laughed, releasing her hand. She giggled, trying to hide her flush. Another dwarf approaching them, bowing low in Felicia’s direction, interrupted their conversation.

“Paragon Madaena, may I request a dance?”

“You may request one,” Felicia said, smiling coyly, “though whether I will accept is still up for debate.”

“Then may I have the honor of gracing the ballroom with your lovely presence?” The dwarf asked, extending a hand towards Felicia. Alistair fought to hide a scowl as Felicia stood and walked towards the dwarf, taking his hand and allowing him to lead her to the lines of dancers. He lost sight of the pair as they disappeared among the taller human populace, only catching glimpses of the jewel blue as they twirled. He turned to Teagan, who was sitting a short ways off, his eyes narrowing.

“I hate you.”

“You can’t ask her to dance. It would be improper,” Tegan responded, picking at a small plate of cheese. “She is still the head of a noble house of Orzammar, regardless of whether she acts as our ambassador to the Assembly or not. As you know, that is the only reason we’re on such good terms with them.”

“She lives here, Teagan, she’s not visiting. It’s not like we’re particularly secretive about the whole thing.”

Teagan had continued speaking, ignoring Alistair’s protests. “-and it’s not as if the height difference wouldn’t be scandalous enough.”

“You’re saying I can’t dance with her because she’s short?” Alistair said incredulously. “Because she _happens_ to be a dwarf? That’s bullshit if ever I heard it.”

“I’m not saying that Alistair, the Bannorn is saying that. You’re on thin ice with them as it is.”

“Bugger the Bannorn.”

“I’m sure they’d appreciate that, your Majesty,” Teagan sighed, muttering to himself: “at least then you’d be giving them _some_ kind of attention.”

The song ended, and soon after Felicia reappeared, adjusting her skirts as she climbed the stairs towards him, taking her place next to Alistair.

“By the Stone, he was a horrible dancer!” she laughed, nodding thanks to a servant who brought her a small goblet of water. “My toes will be bruised for weeks.”

Alistair smiled weakly and looked over to Teagan, the animosity thick in the air. “At least you had the opportunity. If Teagan has his way any longer, I’ll be stuck up here all night. I’m getting a cramp!”

“Poor baby!” Felicia laughed, setting her goblet of water down next to her seat. “I insist you dance with me then.” This time she did not miss the irritated glance Alistair shot Teagan, who looked up from a report he had been handed. “Unless… what, am I breaking some strange human taboo about dancing with dwarves?”

“Apparently it would be improper of the King of Ferelden to dance with his Ambassador to Orzammar. Apparently, if I do, the Bannorn will ask for my head.”

“Oh please, nothing so crass as that, Alistair,” Teagan groaned.

Felicia raised an eyebrow, looking between the pair of men. She stood, curtseying slightly, and Alistair watched her face solidify into the mask of the Ambassador, hiding the hurt. “I seem to be feeling quite tired, your Majesty. I will receive any diplomatic or social calls in my apartments. Please, enjoy the ball.” She turned with a slight swish from the silk that swept the floor, disappearing up the small staircase that led off to her apartments.

“Now you’ve done it Teagan,” Alistair growled, making to stand.

“If you leave that chair right now, you’ll ruin everything we’ve worked on, getting these people to meet you. You have a duty to your kingdom, Alistair.”

“If you happened to forget, she _saved_ this kingdom.”

“I haven’t forgotten what she’s done,” Teagan sighed. “But it’s your job to keep it from falling apart again.” He looked at Alistair as he slumped back into the throne, a flash of defeat tarnishing his face. “She understands the best out of anyone how cutthroat this ball is, Alistair. You forget she is the one who put it together.”

Alistair thought back to the weeks previous, where he barely saw her without ink splotched over her hands, signet rings strapped to her fingers, tiny burns littering her arms from where wax had splashed. She had slept little, staying up and replying to messages that would come at strange hours of the night, sending the carriers back without delay. She had worked very hard to get the neighboring sovereignties to meet with him, the bastard King and Warden. He sighed heavily.

“Fine. But once this is over, you’d better have a damn good apology for her.”

______

 

The dignitaries had finally left, allowing Alistair to stand and stretch. Teagan had slunk off somewhere, hopefully to pen a heartfelt apology to Felicia, who hadn’t reappeared all evening. Only a few of the dignitaries had left to see her in her chambers.

Alistair carefully stepped onto the staircase, climbing up towards the hall that led to the royal wing. He stopped at the long hallway, looking in the opposite direction, towards her chambers. He could go see her now, no one would care. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t done this before.

“Ali?”

He turned, hearing her voice behind him. She was standing there, dress askew, and eyes rimmed with red as though she had been crying.

“Fels. Fels, what’s wrong?” he asked, gathering her into his arms.

Felicia took a shaky breath, steadying herself. “I think I just finally realized that they’ll never accept me. Yes, they bow and scape, and call me the Hero of Ferelden, but oh no, if she wants to dance with the man she loves, too improper!” she sniffed, her words halting and bitter. “And then, after all of that nug-shit, I get this.”

She handed him a piece of parchment, the seal of the Grey Wardens broken and hanging loosely on the blue ribbon it had been attached to. Alistair scanned it quickly.

“You’ve been named Warden-Commander of Ferelden? That’s –wow, Fels,” he breathed, settling back against the wall.

“Too many nugs.”

“What?”

She sniffed a little. “Too many nugs in one basket. With this, _promotion_ , I guess it would be… I become a problem.”

“Problem? Who’s calling you a problem?” Alistair growled, folding the letter back up, and tucking it into his doublet.

“The Bannorn. Weishaupt. Orzammar. Take your pick. What’s the phrase you use? Too many fingers in too many pies?” She took a step back. “I become a power in too many places. If I spread secrets to one, I could start wars. If I fall, all hell will break loose.”

“Fels, don’t-“

“Alistair, I’ve already resigned my position as head of House Madaena. Since I can’t really say ‘no’ to Weishaupt, that unfortunately means that I have to say no to you.”

“Fels!”

“I hereby resign my position as Ambassador to the Assembly of Orzammar, to be taken over by my good friend, and confidant Gorim Selac, now Head of House Madaena. I will also be leaving my position as your advisor.” She turned and walked towards her chambers quickly, leaving him slightly shell-shocked. He shook his head trying to process what she had just told him.

“Madaena Felicia Aeducan, you get back here and talk to me, damn it!” he yelled after her. She turned the corner, pointedly ignoring him. He stormed after her, but she had already disappeared inside her chamber, locking the door tight. He fished the key out of a pocket, the tiny brass mechanism clicking as he pressed the key into it’s slot. The door swung open, illuminating the hallway with the moonlight that streamed through her windows.

She was sitting in a crumpled heap of blue silk, tears streaming down her face, hair sticking to her cheeks. She jumped at his intrusion, and turned her face away, trying to mask the fact that she had been sobbing.

“Fels, please,” Alistair whispered, kneeling down at her side. “Talk to me. What’s really wrong here?”

“I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what? The Bannorn? Orzammar? They both owe you more than they can imagine.”

“Weishaupt.”

“Oh… That one may be a bit of a problem,” Alistair sighed. “I’m guessing they’re expecting you to move to Amaranthine? Hence this sudden resignation?” She nodded mutely, reaching a hand out towards his doublet. She snaked a hand in and snatched the letter, pushing off the floor and placing it on her desk, the only part of the room that looked well used.

“I’m to report there by the end of the month. A delegate is waiting with my new orders, and a dossier of information,” she finally said, straightening a pile of papers.

“Fels, Amaranthine is less than a day trip. It’s not like you’re leaving me forever!” Alistair laughed sadly, getting up to stand behind her. “Besides, I’ll expect lots of in person reports on the state of the fight against the remaining darkspawn.”

“And give the Bannorn more ammunition against you?”

“I’d be keeping notified on the safety of my kingdom,” Alistair said, a shrewd glint in his eye. Felicia smiled a bit, shaking her head fondly.

“If anything it gives me less time to see you. Currently the only Wardens in Fereldan are… well me, since you’re King. I’m all of it. I’ve got to start recruiting, there’s the arling to deal with, there’s whatever mess is awaiting me in the compound-“

“I thought we couldn’t get into the compound? It was sealed?”

“My crest of station apparently works as a key. I’m not looking forward to that day,” Felicia sighed. “It’s a mess, Ali.”

They stood in silence for a long while, before Alistair broke into a grin.

“I just thought of something.”

“Oh?”

“Since,” Alistair smiled, taking Felicia’s hand, “you are no longer my ambassador, or my advisor, there’s nothing stopping me from doing this.” He bowed slightly, reaching behind him and flicking open a music box on her dresser which tinkled out a slow waltz. “May I have this dance, my lady Aeducan?”

“Really, Ali? We’re alone so it doesn’t matter what we do,” Felicia smiled, rolling her eyes. When he didn’t move from his position, she took his hand, and he rested his other hand on her shoulder, her other hand on his waist.

“I’ve been waiting all evening to do this,” Alistair whispered, gently easing her into a slow spin around her rooms.

“I can see why the Bannorn would have a problem with it though,” Felicia chuckled quietly. “We must look ridiculous.”

She did look a bit ridiculous, eyes red rimmed, liner smeared down her face, scar angry and dark against her skin in a horrifically wrinkled satin dress that now looked like it was about to drown her in it’s layers; but Alistair didn’t care. She looked beautiful, no matter how she was dressed. He had seen her coated head to toe in ogre blood and she had still looked magnificent.

“Then we look ridiculous together,” he whispered with a smile, spinning her around and around until they were both dizzy and the music box came to a slow tinkling halt.

She looked at him strangely, repeating his words back at him in a question.

“Together?”

“Until the day we die. Possibly beyond that, if I have my way,” he smiled back. She hugged him tightly.

“Thank you, Ali.”

“For you, anything,” he laughed, moving her towards the bed. “Anything at all.”


End file.
